Everything You Ever
by DDjbRusKl
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. And Loki has found himself in desperation, falling back on some unlikely saviors.
1. Chapter 1

**"Here lies everything**

**The world I wanted at my feet"**

A thick stench of bile masked the dense air. A reek of sickness and infection. Of shit, of dampness and mold intertwined with the coppery scent of blood and saline tears. Of death.

The only light that lingered in the damp recess of this foreign prison was that of two candles, flickering warmth against the moody cold of the cavern. The light befell a figure, barely illuminating his blue skin. Though their warmth was nowhere near meeting him, the figure shook not of the cold.

Sitting above the prisoner, on a ledge specifically crafted for it, laid a serpent; head as large as the height of a average man, and seven times that in length, the creature did not bother to stir from its resting place. In fact, it could not. Its enormous head draped, as gracefully as such a creature could muster, over the ledge, its jaw pried open to reveal its forearm length fangs, a milky white liquid dripping from within at a rapid pace.

The prisoner beneath had his arms spread from his sides, chained to the stone behind. Once upon a time, they would've been level with his shoulders, but since then, he has been stripped of all dignity and pride that would've once kept him in his crucifix like stance, and now rested upon his knees below.

The figure lurched forward slowly, his head bobbing slightly. His eyes fluttered open, revealing deep, crimson irises that brightly contrasted his blue skin. They gazed forward in a sense of agony, watching the cavern before him. He twisted his wrists lightly, as if trying to slide his hands free of the shackles that bound them, but this only serviced in reopening previous wounds, causing him to wince a bit as a stream of maroon liquid spiraled down is forearm.

Swallowing the best he could against his painfully dry throat and mouth, he tried to pull his body to the right with all of his might, what little that might be. Not to try and break free, but to try and_ get out of the way_. But, to no avail, as he couldn't shift very far, and the milky white drop landed on his shoulder, running slowly down his back, leaving a trail burned down to the muscle – and, in some places, deeper – finally forming a filmy puddle on the floor below.

Loki bit his cracked lips in pain, droplets forming quickly at the corners of his eyes, spilling over to trace intricate patterns on to his face. Bound in this place, Loki could no longer muster the amount of magic to flow through his veins that he might, as a subconscious reflex, cloak himself as an Asguardian, let alone enough to heal him. As a result, the Jotun suffered burns and lacerations across his body, leaving him in a constant state of agony.

Not that he would let anyone know. For even if they bothered to come, he would make no noise, not even a whimper to whet their appetites.

Of course, that's not to say anyone would ever come. At first, they did. They would come and stare at him. Marveling at the fallen son. The has been; the could not. They would marvel while the children taunted him like some captive animal. But, among those present, never the two people he wanted to see him the most. The two who sealed his fate.

Hearing footsteps in the distance, Loki was pulled away from his thoughts. In his best attempt to ignore the searing pain that encompassed his body, he raised his head, keeping his face a blank canvas as he watched. The dim light from the two adjacent candles cast dancing shadows across the crevices around the cavern, causing Loki more discomfort than assurance. He narrowed his gaze expectantly as the footsteps drew nearer, his heart pounding ferociously.

A petite figure rounded the corner, and Loki eased his face in to something softer. She'd returned. He wanted to scold her for being so long, but decided against it, all things considered.

She made her way quickly – quietly – towards the agonized Jotun, what appeared to be a bucket in her hand. The All-Father's last, pitiful attempt at compassion. This container – he couldn't remember what Odin addressed it as, and, frankly, didn't really care – would be a barrier between Loki and the serpents foul sting. It took two days to fill completely, and twice as long to be cleaned and returned. This time, however, it had taken her longer – she had been occupied with something else, and, had Loki had the mental clarity to inquire, he would've.

She moved close to him to place the container on the resting place between Loki and the serpent, two small, stones that jutted out from the wall where the lip of the container would rest. As she did so, the aching Jotun leaned in to her presence, his muscles going limp as he did so. She had a comforting, motherly presence about her. Her clothing smelled like the fields within the shining citadel. A smell that reminded him of the springtime, when he and his brother, when they were much younger, would be about in the courtyard, playing with the other children. Laughter filled his ears, and a small, soft smile graced his lips, be it only for a moment.

His eyes widened, and he pushed his aching body away from her with a low hiss. He pulled his lips thin in an almost disgusted manner, glancing at her through his eyelashes. His crimson irises trailed her being, finally meeting with her own crystal blue eyes.

The one person who has shown him compassion; he should have expected her a traitor. He watched as her face twisted with a look of confusion. **"Leave,"** he hissed dryly, though his voice was so weak that it barely managed a whisper. She leaned down to him in a childish manner, bringing her face level to his.

"Pardon?" she inquired, her voice light and melodic, raising her brows as she did.

This upset Loki. He was not a child, and did not appreciate being spoken to as though he were. Especially not by a maiden whose only purpose in life was to clean shit and piss and snake venom. She was beneath him, in every manner, and he would not be depreciated.

**"LEAVE ME!"** he shouted as loud as he could muster. He felt his lips crack and his throat ache as he did so. And for a brief moment, he saw his own bright emerald eyes reflected in the pool of tears the formed over her own.

He took in deep breaths – as deep as he could – each one shaking as the maiden scrambled to leave his sight.

The longer he drew out his breaths, the more he could fill fatigue setting in.

The longer he drew out his breaths, the more his thoughts raced.

_What was she doing in the citadel?_

_ Speaking to All-Father? To Odinson._

_ Why?_

His breaths evened themselves out with each thought that passed through his mind, and the realization that he was now standing hit him like a rock as consciousness began to stray from him. He struggled to fight back, but allowed a defeated moan to pass his lips, and almost sickening crack gracing his ears as darkness enveloped his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**"Am I more than you bargained for yet?**

**I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear."**

Loki found himself in a familiar place. A dark, desolate and depressing space off the radar to even the mighty gatekeeper. The moonlight provided lighting over the crevices and valleys of the crater-like surface, casting an eerie, pearlescent glow to everything it touched. There was a foreboding silence, save the crunching sound of Loki's boots against the dirt and loose gravel.

His hands were placed neatly behind his back, his right hand clasped to the opposite wrist with a sense of dignity. His face was still masked with narcissism and self assurance, but riddled with a trace of fear. He took in a deep breath as he paced to and fro, not really progressing anywhere.

_Why am I in this place?_

**"Laufeyson,"** a deep voice protruded, cutting through the silence that once encompassed Loki's being.

_Oh._ Loki swallowed hard as he turned towards the sound, keeping his face plastered with a cool confidence. He tilted his head barely to the side, raven hair sweeping past his pale cheek. A thin smirk drew at the corner of his lips, as though he was running in to someone unpleasantly unanticipated. Though the opposite was true. Loki had expected him. However, he had expected him much earlier, and so, had dispelled this memory – this warning – to the furthest reaches of his mind.

Leaning his shoulder in as he turned slowly towards The Other, Loki opened his mouth, armed to the teeth with quick-witted insults. He was, however, interrupted when he tried to speak.

**"Laufeyson,"** it reiterated. The fact that The Other kept referring to him by that name irked Loki, though he knew it was the intent. He swallowed hard, biting back his irritation. He gave a quick, tight lipped smile to the other.

**"The seasons have passed,"** it said, turning its pale figure directly towards the Jotun, its menacing gaze now focused on the emerald green eyes. **"And now, they return again."**

**"Spare me your riddles,"** Loki hissed, rolling his eyes lightly as he shifted his weight.

**"It has been a year,"** it growled, clearly stating its point, unamused.

However, Loki was taken aback. Had it only been a mere year? It felt like he'd been in that prison for…centuries; eons; lifetimes.

**"We've come for what is due,"** The Other said coldly, pulling Loki away from his musings.

**"I've no penance due."**

**"You've cost nearly an entire Chitauri army!"**

**"An army which _you_ gifted me,"** Loki said, raising an eyebrow lightly as he shifted blame. **"How was I to know of their…_inadequacies_?"**

**"You did not perform the task in which you promised."** Loki could tell The Other was getting irritated. He smirked lightly at the fact. **"You promised us the tessaract in exchange for Earth, and now you have neither!"**

The Jotun's vaguely amused expression fell from his face. He began to wring his pale hands behind his back, thinning his lips. **"Merely a … falter…in the plan. But, I assure…"**

**"Your assurances mean nothing!"** The Other cut off. Loki gritted his teeth in response. **"Your time is up, Laufeyson. It is time you reap what you have sewn!"**

Loki felt his heart rate accelerate as he took a step back, The Other lunging at him, his grasp effortlessly finding itself around his slender neck.

Loki seized forward with a deep cough. His breath was heavy as his deep crimson irises took in his surroundings. He was…back in the cave. With a sigh, he eased his body, causing a pain to shoot up through his arm. He winced, but ultimately ignored it. He was preoccupied at the moment.

_There is nowhere you can run that we can't find you._

_You think you know pain._

Loki squirmed a bit where he kneeled. He needed a solution to his problem. The Jotun twisted his hands in the cuffs. But, before he could pursue said solution, he needed one for the situation at hand. The Other was already aware of where he was located at the moment, which meant that he needed to find somewhere else to be – if for nothing more than to simply buy himself time.


	3. Chapter 3

"**And I'm standing here for all the world to see,**

**There ain't that much left of me**

**That has very far to fall."**

An animalistic grunt of pain and frustration passed through the dark blue lips of the Jotun, now artfully lined with a mix of fresh and dried blood. He shifted his weight to his left, focusing his energy on pulling it all away from his right hand. He could feel the muscles in his arms straining. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth slightly, shaping his hand in to a tight cone, his thumb resting on his pinky. He'd been repeating the same motions for what seemed like hours.

But, desperate times called for desperate measures. And these were _very_ desperate times.

Loki drew in a deep breath, giving another violent tug. His brow was furrowed deeply, accented with sweat that was now rolling down the bridge of his nose. There was a lot of tension building between his wrist and the cuff as it dug in to his skin. He could feel it cutting in to his hand, clenching his jaw against the pain, not letting up on his resistance.

"**Uhhhhnnnnnn."** A guttural sound of pain violently passed through is now agape mouth as his hand pulled loose from the cuff, causing him to collapse to the left.

He swallowed hard, a whine escaping his throat as he drew his shaking hand towards his body for comfort. It was bleeding profusely, patches of his dark blue skin loosely hanging off of either side. Loki clenched his jaw hard, keeping the fist close to his body, arm bent in an 'L' shape. There was an eerie silence as he stood up, turning his body to work on arm number two.

He was breathing heavily at this point, exhausted at the physical exertion on his body, especially after all of this time just laying still. This arm, however, was going to be more of a challenge. He had discovered, upon his first attempt much earlier in the day, that his left shoulder was somewhat dislocated, an injury he assumed that he had sustained when he'd passed out. He had tried to work with it earlier, succeeding in only making his condition worse before switching to the other hand. But, now, the other was free from the chain, and, so, he had to focus on the left.

Now that one of his hands was free, he found he had a much larger range of motion, which he could use to his advantage.

Loki moved as far left as he could manage, finding, much to his advantage, that he could brace his body against a nearby cave wall. He tensed up a bit as he rested his body against the cold, damp wall, but had to admit it was a bit soothing.

The Jotun pulled freely at the shackled arm in an attempt to free it. He yanked forcefully a few times before an uncomfortable crack forced him to quit. His face scrunched up as a grunt passed through his mouth, straightening his back a bit. Clearly, this was going to get nothing done, but possibly tear his arm off. Of course, then he wouldn't be shackled to the wall anymore. Though, he couldn't say he was really willing to part with the appendage. He'd grown fond of it over the years.

The man thinned his lips, allowing a sharp stream of air to emit from his nostrils. Lifting his already injured hand, he gripped the chain as tightly as he could. Biting his lip, he began to pull his arm once again, using the hand gripped around the chain to pull in the opposite direction. He winced a bit, squeezing his eyes almost completely shut, not letting up any strength on either side. As he pulled against the chain, he could feel bits of loose flesh getting caught between the lengths, ripping them further in sharp spurts of pain. Loki clenched his teeth, furrowing his brow against the pain. Droplets of salt riddled sweat were finding their way in to his eyes, and he desperately wanted to wipe them away, but to do so would loose progress.

Frustrated, Loki slid his fingers in to individual links, closing his hand in to a fist around them, for better grip. He pulled against his wrist, the rusted metal pushing back against his hands. He twisted his torso, against the grinding pain of his shoulder, to allow more force in pulling away from the chain. There was an uncomfortable tightness around his hand as the cuff rubbed against it, but the Jotun continued to struggle.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the cuff removed itself from his body, flinging with violent force in to the cavern wall behind it, a great metallic clang following. Loki himself stumbled back in surprise, blinking rapidly a few times. He stood back firmly against the wall for a few minutes, allowing his breathing to even itself.

Though his hands shook in pain, Loki erected his posture, standing as tall as he could. He ran a tongue over the coagulated blood on his lips as his eyes meticulously scanned the surrounding area. He took in a deep breath and released it slowly, taking his first few shaky steps forward.

Now, he needed to find somewhere the Chitauri wouldn't think to look first.

Loki leaned to his side a bit, carefully blowing out the candles as he exited the cave.

He needed to get his hands on the tessaract.


	4. Chapter 4

"**But now I'd rather wring the nectar from my skin. I've no use for swimming laps in a sea of dorsal fins."**

_Battink. Battink. Battink._ The transparent keyboard made light, glasslike noise beneath the pressure of Tony Stark's fingertips. The scene was not uncommon. We find Tony comfortably reclined in a black leather swivel chair, tilted back enough that he could have his feet propped up on the desk without issue. He was surrounded in all directions with holographic interfaces and three dimensional projections of his latest ventures in architecture and science. To his right sat a half drained glass of scotch. Placed neatly in his lap sat a small black cat, its startlingly white paws bating at Tony's rapidly moving fingers, causing mild frustration in the man as he bats back to try and get it to stop, only to get the creature more riled.

The cat, Tony often likes to point out, is not his. No, it's merely a stray finding temporary residence in his home. You see, he simply couldn't stand it constantly scratching at the door and meowing through the night, and, so, took it in as a temporary roommate. Until it could get on its feet. Strictly plutonic.

Tony let out a sigh, scratching at his forehead a bit as he waved away the keyboard. The cat let out a melodic purr as he wrapped his hand around its torso, picking it up and placing it on the floor below. It looked up at him with mischievous green eyes, making Tony frown a bit. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he let out a drawn out breath. Swiveling his chair to the left, Tony put his feet flat on the floor, pulling himself up from his reclined position. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked down at the cat.

"**You hungry?"** he mused, raising a brow.

_Mrrrrow._

"**Me too."** He said dryly, moving forward.

Loki set his jaw, placing his shoulder against the great mouth of the cavern. His eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the vast landscape that he'd not seen for a long time. He had to admit, as his eyes took in his surroundings, that Odin had a sense of humor, despite its twistedness. A light, though somewhat emotionless, smirk crossed his lips as he looked before him, the noble Asguard at his feet.

Running his tongue along his lips, he rolled his eyes bitterly, pushing away from the cave so that he could continue forward. Luckily for him, he was still partially shaded by the cover of night. He wasn't sure what time it was, but was aware that he needed to move somewhat quickly, lest it be close to dawn.

He found himself somewhat surprised at how much closer his prison seemed to the outskirts of the city thatn initially perceived. Of course, on his last trip, he was on his way to the prison, and was seething with a pent up rage. He was sure that right now it was his drive to preserve his own well being that made the distance appear shorter.

As he moved forward, Loki kept his arms tight around his waist, his hands balled in to fists at either side. He had initially tried to keep his posture erect, but between both the dislocate shoulder and the last wound he'd suffered from the serpent's venom – the two, unfortunately, were on the same side of his body – and the lack of sleep and physical activity he'd had over the last…well, year, he had begun to slump over slightly.

The Jotun closed his eyes, faltering slightly as he moved, a nostalgic scent brushing at his nose. It was a musty scent, intertwined with clover and cattails. He opened his eyes slowly, turning his body towards the direction of the smell. The crystal waters lapped lightly, as if beckoning to him. He ran his tongue around his startlingly dry mouth in contemplation before straying from his path.

He dropped to his knees at the edge of the water, leaning his body forward. Loki was startled a bit at his own reflection, furrowing his brows a bit. His long hair was madly disheveled, matted with blood and dirt and whatever else it had picked up along the way. It lay in a mess around his dark blue face. He stared for just a brief moment, somewhat entranced by his own deep, crimson eyes, but quickly jutted his hands in to the water, dissipating the image completely.

The water burned the cuts that encompassed his hands, but Loki didn't particularly care at the moment. He brought his cupped hands to his lips, practically inhaling the cool liquid, reaching down for another handful. An almost delighted smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, the clean water from the lake running down his chin.

The Jotun slumped back a bit, taking in a deep breath as he looked around. He ran his wet hands through his long hair, washing away some of the dirt as he did, pulling it away from his face. He tilted his head back just a bit, closing his eyes against the night's breeze.

Tony leaned forward on the counter a bit, resting his chin in a hand, thinning his lips, his eyes watching the little furball as it lapped at the empty plate that sat before it. Tony rolled his eyes a bit, wanting to correct it. There wasn't anything on the plate. The cat had long since devoured any crumbs that might have been hidden, and was now intensely licking purely porcelain _Compliments to the chef_, he supposed, that the creature was willing to eat the plate merely for leftovers.

He was, admittedly, startled a bit when the little fellow suddenly quit eating, whipping itself about and emitting a low growl. Tony furrowed his brows a bit, watching as it pawed at the air.

Loki's eyes fluttered a bit, his gaze bouncing around from object to object as he tried to take in his surroundings. He squinted his eyes against the blinding light of the sun, allowing a moment for his vision to adjust.

Sun.

"**Damn,"** he breathed sharply, anger tugging at the edges. Placing his hands on the ground, he pushed himself up, pain flashing through his body. He winced a bit, letting out a soft grunt as he straightened himself out. He shook his head at himself, disappointed. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. The Jotun opted to travel masked by a thicket of tall grass, as opposed to the more direct route he was taking, purely to stay out of sight.

The citadel was surprisingly easy to gain access in to. He'd always been a crafty individual, and so knew how to navigate the various tunnels and viaducts that operated around and within the city. And, much to his delight – and relief – none of his pathways had been blocked off.

It reminded him of when he was young. He and Thor would often go on adventures outside the walls, much to the dismay of the All-Father. Hence the trails and tunnels that bypassed the security of Asguard. It allowed the two to get out without being caught. Of course, these hadn't been used in ages. In the grand scheme, he had to admit he wasn't overly surprised that they had long since been forgotten by the others.

The real test was going to be how to get his hands on the tesseract without anyone noticing.

Loki let out a sigh, stopping to peer through a small opening to his right. He narrowed his eyes, almost pressing his face against the wall so he could get a clear view of where he was located.

His heart dropped a bit as he stared forward. He drew his lip down in a frown, clenching his fists a bit as he watched the head of gray hair before him. He could hear the authoritative voice, but could not understand what was being said. He also took a mental note that Odinson was not around. He wondered silently if the All-Father could feel his eyes upon him. The spiteful gaze of his fallen son. Loki clenched his jaw a bit and turned away.

He was moving freely through the hallways at this point, now aware of where he was relative to where he needed to be. He was familiar with which areas would be heavily guarded, which would not be at all, and everything in between, having previously lived here for some time. He was also aware that, since he was just peering in to the throne room, he needed to get downstairs to find the object he was looking for.

Loki ran his fingers across his thinned lips contemplatively as he ran through a mental layout of his former home, taking a right in to an adjacent hallway.

Letting out a deep breath, Loki peered slightly around the corner, eyeing the two guards that stood between him and what he wanted.

The tesseract. A glowing artifact with almost unlimited power. Able to open rifts through space and time. And, Loki planned on using this capability to his advantage.

Hearing the pitter-patter of small feet, Loki furrowed his brows curiously. He crouched down, leaning forward to see. As he did so, a child quickly rounded the corner, almost running in to him head on. The child stumbled backwards a bit, a mess of dark hair fluttering around his face as he finally landed on his butt. Keeping his eyes averted, a small, almost inaudible sigh came from the child's lips, followed by a half-assed, stammered apology.

Loki kept his eyes fixed on the pale child, his mouth slightly agape as he studied its features. He reached a hand forward absentmindedly, touching the chin of the child before him, lifting his head up slightly.

"**Look at me, child,"** he said in an almost whisper.

The little one did so, and Loki was almost shocked at his bright blue eyes. He quickly retracted his hand, biting his lip. He didn't know why he was so disappointed at the sight. What was he really expecting?

He brought his gaze back up to meet the child's, only to find those blue eyes widened with a sense of fear and wonder. Loki smirked a bit, hardly able to imagine what exaggerated image that poor child was seeing - the tangled, tattered and beaten mess before him.

"**You're…"** the child stammered, starting to back up as his face flashed in fear.

Loki was taken aback, his face suddenly hardened as his heart dropped a bit.

_I am the monster parents tell their children about at night._

_So be it._

"**Yes,"** he hissed angrily, leaning forward towards the child, placing his hands on the floor to brace him, as if he was going to crawl**. "Now go, little one! Go! Tell the guards **_**Loki**_**,"** he hissed his name with venomous exaggeration **"has returned to the citadel." **He snarled his lip at the child, now realizing that he actually _had_ moved towards him.

The child nodded quickly, scrambling to get to his feet as Loki lurched towards him. His eyes now brimming with tears, he turned back down the hallway from which he initially came. Loki could hear him yelling to the guards, a look almost of disgust crossing his features. A thin lipped smile followed as he got to his feet, retreating down the hallway.

There was a small intersection he had to cross before he could get to the room he was looking for. By now, the guards were investigating the small child's sinister warning, and would not be occupying the doors.

Loki moved himself quietly, though quickly, down the hall, turning to his right. He kept his body close to the wall, watching as the guards moved to the other end of the hallway with the raven haired child.

He placed his hand on the cold door handle.

"**See, child. It's nothing."**

The door made a soft click as it shut behind him.

There it sat, glowing in front of him. Loki smiled softly in relief, feeling the fatigue that gripped his being. His wary eyes looked forward as the tesseract got closer.

Now, he just needed to figure out where it was he was going. He placed a hand on either side of the container that held the artifact. Gripping tightly, he took in a deep breath.

The door busted open, causing the Jotun to jump, his deep red irises shooting his gaze upward quickly.

"**LOKI! STOP!"**

An almost vindictive grin plastered itself on his face. **"I guess you were aware,"** he breathed, his tired body being engulfed by an astounding blue light.

Tony sighed, watching the frantic animal as it hissed, and then took off as fast as its tiny cat legs could carry it. He watched it for a moment, amused, before he realized it was running towards the open door to the balcony. He let out a frustrated sigh, starting towards it, not wanting the poor, dumb thing to fall to its death.

But, what he found was not that at all. He stopped mid stride, looking at the creature.

_PURRRRRRRRR._

Tony watched, mouth slightly agape, as the cat purred wildly, forcefully prodding its nose at the fingers of the huddled blue mass, its once white paws now partially stained a deep crimson as it kneaded at the…person.

_**Sir. We have a security breach.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: SaiSaiLove: Thank you very, very much, I'm really glad that you like the story so far. As for the bold typeface, it's because my entire story has been handwritten prior to being typed, and so, when I wrote it initially, I darkened the speech to help keep track, and just translated it to the type. No special reason and it can easily be undone. Thank you for your criticism, it's always appreciated. Always looking to make my stories better, even if it is simply the visual aspect(:**

* * *

"**Needed some time so I could find**

**A little strength to redefine**

**What I've become, what I've done."**

"Thanks, Jarvis," Tony mused, rolling his eyes slightly as he shifted his weight, looking at the figure before him. The cat was now curled up against the head of said individual, nesting in the mess of hair, still purring wildly. "Kid needs to lay off the video games," _And the drugs_, he scoffed at the blue painted skin. He moved towards the kid, a bit irritated at him for having managed to find a way to the balcony of Stark Tower while bypassing security. _Pepper's fault._

Fully prepared to give the kid an earful, Tony stopped short of the body, furrowing his brows. He bit his lip lightly, crouching down to examine. However he'd managed to get up here, he'd seriously injured himself in the process. Tony reached a hand down, grasping the kid's arm, almost instantly retracting it against the icy temperature of the skin. _Is he dead?_ Tony wondered, almost holding his breath. That was going to be difficult to explain. He leaned his body back, intently studying the person before him, instantly breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of breathing, regardless of how shallow it was. "Jarvis."

_Sir?_

"Call Banner."

He couldn't take him to a hospital. For one, he didn't know the extent of the kid's injuries, and hesitated to move him, lest it be against better judgment, and, more importantly, he knew that at some point he would have to explain the situation to the medical staff, and, there wasn't a way he could go about that without it seeming like he was trying to cover something up.

Solution? Call Bruce Banner. Though not technically a licensed physician, he had spent an impressive amount of time in Calcutta working as a doctor, and, so, he would have a fairly good idea of what he was doing.

"How long has he been there?" Bruce inquired, moving towards the balcony, medical supplies in hand.

Tony pursed his lips, "Maybe half an hour?"

Bruce nodded in response, placing his hand on the door before him, sliding it open. He stepped out on to the balcony of Stark Tower, a cool breeze causing his mess of brown curls to shift slightly. He furrowed his brow a bit, looking at the figure as he approached. He drew his lips to the side slightly, his eyes scanning slowly over the body. As he did so, the cat shifted, removing itself from the hest of hair with a melodic purr, frightening Bruce a bit as it did. He huffed in retort, turning towards Tony. "Your cat?" he asked, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"No," Tony replied dryly.

With a small chuckle, he turned back around. Peering over the edge of the balcony for a moment, Bruce crouched down next to the huddled body, examining the lacerations that seemed to mask his flesh. He furrowed his brows quizzically. _Are those…burns? _"Hey…Tony. How exactly _did_ he get up here?"

Tony paused. He wasn't really sure. "Jarvis," he called, moving towards the door so he could step inside.

_Sir?_

"Pull up security footage for the last…oh, hour."

_Yes, Sir._

Tony stared at the screen before him, chocolate brown eyes wide in disbelief. His hand carefully placed on his chin in concentration, he used the other to once again rewind.

There was an empty stillness to the air. And then, as if an act of God, or, more apt to Tony's experience, _a_ god, there was a bright flash of light, the figure that now lay on his balcony stumbling forward on to the ground. And then, once more, stillness.

Tony sighed, again rewinding the footage. Play. He leaned forward, studying the scene. The figure makes an entrance. Drawing his lips in to a thin line, he let out a frustrated breath through his nostrils. Pause. _What was that?_ He placed his hands on either corner of the image, enlarging it, focusing on the individual's hands. _No._

"Jarvis. Call Steve."

Bruce let out a frustrated sigh of his own, looking down at the blue skinned individual. He was going to have to at least be rolled over so he could get a better look. He sat his things to the side, erecting himself. Pursing his lips, he placed a hand on either reachable side of the beings torso, turning him so that he lay on his back, the man's limp body posing no resistance.

The weight being removed from it, the cylindrical container rolled slowly forward, stopping at Bruce's feet with a clink. Bruce looked down, eyes widening as he studied the object. He stared briefly, and then turned his gaze to the blue creature, studying it's features. "Oh, hell," he breathed. Scooping up the tesseract, he stepped lightly over Loki's body, moving to the slightly ajar door.

"Tony…we've got a big problem," he said, moving his body in to the doorway.

"I'll say," he replied, turning his gaze from the enlarged photograph to Bruce, placing his hands on his hips and raising his brow slightly.

"Should we call…"

"No," Tony interrupted, holding up his hand, fingers slightly spread in an explanatory manner. "In fact. I think we should actually…avoid…"

"MAN OF IRON!" A voice boomed behind him, as if, annoyingly, on cue. Tony rolled his eyes, sighing a bit. It's like he could just tell when he was being spoken of.

"Just the man we _weren't_ looking for," Tony mused, turning on his heel to greet the God of Thunder.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: Evilnor: I feel like the shorter chapters help me keep the plot running smoothly, as opposed to if I were to make them longer. Personal preference. But, I'm glad that you liked the story thus far(:**

**Random Guest: Thanks for creeping(:**

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"**I may not be the best brother, **

**but I try to teach him pride."**

Steve let out a sigh, glancing down at the mobile phone. It was emitting a light ring, telling him there was an incoming call. His blue eyes scanned the device warily, still somewhat dumbfounded. In either corner of the brightly lit screen were options. Answer. Reject. Green. Red. He drew his lips in a thin line, using his index finger to lightly tap the green button. Answer.

"He—hello?" he said cautiously, not quite letting the device touch his ear. He was a bit relieved at Tony's voice coming out of the phone. There was a sense of urgency in the way he spoke.

"Why?" he questioned, standing up from the park bench he was comfortably seated on. He was being instructed to head back to Stark Towers. He didn't really have an issue with it, it wasn't very far from where he was currently located, but he wanted to know why there was such a rush to do so.

He stopped walking for a moment. "The…what?" He drew his lips in to a thin line. "How?"

Tony simply told him to get back to the tower, saying he would explain after. Steve went to reply, but the line went dead. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he pulled the phone away from his face. He frowned at it, shoving it in his pocket as he took of briskly towards the building.

Thor's light brown brows wrinkled at Tony's odd greeting. He couldn't say he was overwhelmingly familiar with Midgardian customs, but, he felt that he had been around these people enough to know that that had been an improper greeting. His bright blue eyes curiously jumped from Tony's face to the image that seemed to levitate in the center of the room. "What's that?" he inquired curiously, taking a step closer to examine.

Tony quickly waved the screen away. "Ahh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it, big guy."

Despite needing to be on the top floor of the enormous building, the elevator ride was a fairly short one. It was always a smooth ride, but Steve was still a little uncomfortable about elevators. He could think of a million things that could go wrong in the short distance. Of course, even at that, he didn't refrain from using them.

The doors opened silently, Steve stepping through the threshold. He pursed his lips, looking around a bit. He had expected them to have the object out, examining, like they did most everything. Instead, Tony was standing around, talking to Thor, while Banner did…whatever he was doing in the doorway. He didn't often question what Bruce was doing, not really sure what would set him off. Steve curled his eyebrow, looking at all of them. He shifted his weight, sliding his foot out in front of him a bit. "The tesseract?" he asked loudly in an attempt to get someone's attention. He watched as Tony's face wadded up in an unfamiliar expression, the fingers on his outstretched hand closing slowly, somewhat angrily, as if trying to catch Steve's words midair. Steve cocked his head to the side slightly.

"The tesseract?" Thor echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. There was no way they had the tesseract. He let out a light chuckle, looking back at Steve, who furrowed his brows. It was locked away in Odin's relic room. Silencing himself and setting his jaw, he watched Tony as he exchanged looks between Banner and Steve. The god straightened his back, looking at Tony, and then to the space where the image had been when he'd first walked in.

Tony plastered on one of his trademark shit-eating grins, "Well…"

"Do not play games with me," Thor interrupted, before Tony really had the chance to start, a look of concern carved in to his features. "Are, or are you not, in possession of the tesseract?"

"Yes," Bruce stuttered quickly, eyeing the tight grip the god had on the handle of Mjolnir. He cleared his throat slightly, his gaze moving quickly to Tony, and back to Thor. "Yes."

Thor released the handle of his hammer, moving towards Bruce, who was now retreating through the door, expecting the god to follow suit. Odin's son let out a sigh, glancing at Tony as he passed. Clearly the man didn't understand the gravity of the situation. If the tesseract was here, on Earth, then it wasn't in Asguard. This, in turn, meant that someone had managed to get their way past the security within the citadel and lay claim to the artifact.

Tony glared sharply at Steve, shaking his head, to which he replied with an apologetic shrug, moving forward behind Tony so the two could join the party.

Bruce turned to Thor, cylindrical container in hand. He offered it to Thor to examine, but the offer was declined with the wave of his hand. He shook his head, golden locks lightly falling out of place. The god wrapped on arm across his chest, closing his hand in to a fist. Using this arm as a kind of shelf, he sat the opposite elbow on it, placing his hand on his chin, thumb lightly rubbing at his facial hair in contemplation.

After a moment of silence, Thor let out a deep breath. "How did you acquire it?" he questioned, raising a brow as he glanced back at the men who had just stepped on to the balcony.

"From a flying blue lunatic," Tony said matter-of-factly. Thor just stared at him as if he didn't get the punchline of some joke. Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. He really needed to work on that. His deep brown eyes flicked up, looking at Bruce as if posing a silent question. Bruce nodded his head lightly. Flipping his hand forward, Tony pointed out the mass of person on the other side of the balcony. Bruce quickly stepped out of the way.

A light crease in his brow, the God of Thunder, glanced back at the three men, and then forward. "This…man?" he questioned, vaguely amused at the tattered shell of a person that lay still on the floor. There was no way that he was the one who had the tesseract. As he got closer, however, a twinge of fear struck his heart, causing him to stop briefly. _That skin…_His bright eyes studied the intricate patterns that laced the deep blue skin. _A Jotun._ He frowned deeply, clenching his fists. _There was a Jotun in the halls of Asguard? Undetected? How could they have possibly gotten there? Jotenheim was almost totally destroyed by the bifrost. _Stepping lightly in the creature's midst, Thor froze as his eyes befell the face of the beast. "Brother," he drew in sharply. He knelt down next to the tattered and beaten figure that was his brother, Loki. His hands hovered undecidedly over the body, hesitating on whether or not he should touch him.

_Brother?_ Steve frowned. That was _not _Thor's brother. Unless, that is, he had a whole other extended family just chomping at the bit to get their little piece of the Earth. Last time he'd encountered Loki, he had been quite pale. And there was no way that he had shape-shifted. That was a thing of books and legends. Steve flopped his head to the side lightly, rolling his eyes. _Of course._

"Brother." Tony snorted, raising his eyebrows. Rubbing his hand across his chin, he shook his head a bit. "Look. I get that you're…grieving and all," he said, sighing a bit to find the right choice of words, "but-"

"Do not make light of what you do not understand." Thor looked down to his brother, eyes scanning over the wounds that covered him. The figure that lay before him was a long way from being the brother he once spent all of his time with as a child. Absentmindedly, the god ran a hand over his brother's hair, as if to comfort him. He swallowed hard, and then looked back up to Tony. "This is not a situation to be entered in to lightheartedly." His eyes found their way to the tesseract once more.

Tony frowned at being chided like a child. He shifted his weight, watching as the god before him cradled what was supposed to be his younger brother like an infant, picking him up off the ground. As a blue arm tumbled free from Thor's grasp, the god raised his gaze, looking from his team members to the door, letting them know silently that he was going to take Loki inside.

Sliding the door shut behind him, Steve looked forward to the rest of the group. "Should we call Fury?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips. In his mind, it was the right thing to do. After all, Loki was responsible for the destruction of New York last year, and had not answered to the American justice system.

"No," Tony answered almost instantly, a bit to everyone's surprise. Tony just raised a brow at them, shifting his weight. "Think about it. If we give SHIELD Loki, then we're also surrendering the tesseract. And that is pretty much a free pass to destroy the Earth with their new nuclear toys. Our best bet is to give him a pair of pants and send him _from whence he came_." The last part came out of his mouth with a hint of self-amusement.

Thor nodded a bit, realizing what this meant, his face falling just a bit. Looking at his brother, he turned his body a bit, as if to take him back outside. He was now to take his ailing brother once more to the Asguardian court, and return the relic to its proper place.

"Not so fast, big guy. First…and, I don't know about the rest of you, but, I want to know why the hell he's here." Tony placed his hands on his hips, relieved to see that lost puppy look remove itself from Thor's face.

"Thank you, Tony," Thor said with understanding. He turned around once more to set his brother on the nearby couch.

"Uh. No. Eww. Not on the furniture."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: I LOVE JACK ATLAS: Thanks, I will!**

**coleypane: Then I will write more(:**

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"**What can I do to prove it to you that I'm sorry?  
I didn't mean to ever be mean to you."**

The sun positioned itself high in the noontime sky, it's golden rays brightly illuminating everything it touched. Beneath the intense heat, two children ran as fast as their legs could carry them, feet beating rhythmically against the ground below, their laughter seeming to carry for miles.

The crystal waters of the nearby lake came to view, its light waves glittering enticingly in the sun. The two did not stop until its cool waters lapped at their feet.

Bright green eyes reflecting the smile on his face, the dark haired child looked around, taking in his surroundings. He'd been to this lake many times, but its beauty never ceased to capture his attention. It was almost totally secluded, save for the well worn path that led to it. Creating an almost bowl around it was a thick forest of blossoming trees and mighty pines that reached to the sky. It was layered with great walls of pale gray stone. It seemed a place where the advancement of society did not reach. There was a serene stillness to it that provided both comfort and mystery.

There was a large boulder that had long since broken away from the side of a mountain, now laying on the edge of the water, barely touching it. The eager blond was headed for it now, stringy locks of gold fluttering against the breeze with every stride. He stopped, turning to look back at the other. "Come on, brother!" he called, motioning with his hand, a smile breaking on his lips. Loki had watched as his brother and friends jumped from the mighty stone before, deriving some sort of amusement from it. Loki, however, had never done so.

"No," he replied, giving his head a light shake.

Thor let out a laugh, pulling his shirt over his head. He again locked eyes with Loki. "What is the matter?" he cooed, raising a brow as he teased, "scared?"

Loki frowned, now sliding his arms out of the sleeves of his own shirt. The suns warm light cast itself down on his pale shoulders as he ran to catch up with his brother, despite the face he obviously did not want to.

He peered down at the water below from atop the boulder. There were butterflies violently waltzing in his stomach. Swallowing hard, Loki squeezed his eyes shut tightly, balling his hands in to fists. His body somewhat tensed as he readied himself for the leap before him. Before he could do anything, however, he felt a sudden jolt of fear as two hands found themselves firmly against his back, pushing him forward with great force over the edge of the rock.

Loki lurched forward quickly, a cascade of cold water suddenly covering his face. "I couldn't swim," he coughed slightly – an answer he'd once given when confronted over his anger at the aforementioned incident – bringing his hands to to his face, wiping the running water away from his eyes, blinking hard a few times before he finally opened them wide enough to take in his surroundings. He shivered lightly, the water now running in a steady stream down his back. He drew in a deep breath, heart rate retuning to a normal pace. He reached a hand out, placing a firm grip on the edge of the bathtub, adjusting his position slightly.

He could feel a gaze on him, making him more uncomfortable than he already was. The Jotun turned his head, brows furrowed quizzically, his wide eyes meeting with a pair of bright blues that stared back. _Thor._

"You're awake."

"Clearly," Loki said dryly, bringing his knees to his chest slightly, as if to conceal himself from the other.

There was a shared silence between the two, Thor looking onward as if amazed. Loki averted his eyes in an irritated manner.

"Have you been on Midgard so long you've forgotten of privacy?" he finally questioned, vague annoyance dripping from his tone, looking from his brother to the bathroom door.

A light color rose to Thor's cheeks as he stood, nodding ever so slightly. He turned to the door and exited, though he remained just outside to keep a close watch on the other.

After a long moment, Loki drew his lips together, glancing at the shower head above, the water it emitted now a much more comfortable temperature. He let out a soft sigh and pushed himself into a standing position. Tilting his head back slightly, he closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair as all of the dirt and grime and blood from the last year loosened itself.

Stepping out of the shower, Loki found neatly folded – indicating to him that it was not his brother that had provided them- clothing on the light marble counter. He reached for a nearby towel, wadding it lightly to blot away the water from his face. Reaching a hand forward, he wiped away the steam that had collected on the mirror so that he could better see himself.

The God of Mischief frowned a bit at his reflection. He once more resembled an Asguardian, but the pale skin seemed only to serve the purpose of making him look worse. His once bright emerald irises were replaced with a dull glass the color of dying grass, a startling splash of crimson still peering though the very edges of the pupil, and were accented with light bluish-purple bags. His lips were riddled with deep crevices and tears, some that trailed all the way down to the skin, that, despite having desperately scrubbed, were still deeply accented with now black colored blood. Loki ran his tongue over his bottom lip slightly, a metallic, coppery taste biting at the tips of his taste buds. His sable hair now tumbled down past his shoulder blades, lightly curling up at the ends. His frowned deepened at the tresses as he grabbed a handful to move it out of his way, turning his torso to get a better view of his back. He winced a bit, pain shooting up his left arm, again reminding him of his previous injuries. Across the majority of his left shoulder, extending somewhat down his back and up to his neck, was a deep purple bruise – especially startling against his pale skin. It was raised in a sort of welt, and incredibly tender to the touch. In an almost artistic pattern across his flesh were deep lacerations, edges crusting up grotesquely with dried blood that refused to be washed away and developing scar tissue, which, much to his dismay, left a dark blue ring around the forming scabs, leaving his upper body looking like some twisted Picasso piece. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he let loose of the hold he had on his long mane, allowing it to tumble back in to place. His neck had a few, thin scars that protruded out , and the front of his torso was nearly unscathed, save for cuts and bruises along the way. His wrists had deep crimson rings around them, and his hands were still fairly mangled, though somewhat more manageable than he remembered. His legs, to his slight surprise, were in decent condition – though fatigued- save for his knees and the upper portion of his shins, which were decorated by cuts and sores from where he'd rested on them for so long against the cavern floor. He was, for lack of a better term, an utter mess, and was very aware of it. Averting his gaze from his reflection, Loki reached out a hand, quickly scooping up the provided attire.

Loki emerged from the bathroom, looking around lazily. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, slicking it away from his face the best he could – though some strands still fell gently back down around his face. The clothing – a surprisingly fit pair of jeans and a somewhat ill fitting t-shirt – rubbed uncomfortably at his injuries, but he kept his usual cool expression as he moved forward, ignoring Thor, who sat on the side of the bathroom door opposite of the direction Loki was headed, and who was now righting his posture as if to follow the younger.

Loki sighed as he peered forward a bit, thoughtfully examining the path before him before he decided to move any further. He turned to his right, traveling down the nearest corridor. Much to his surprise, he almost ran straight in to Tony Stark, taking a step back to distance himself.

Tony raised an eyebrow slightly as he lifted his gaze to the other's now pale face, lingering for a moment on the deep scar that caused a bump in the other wise perfectly smooth bridge of his nose, a small smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. "That's a cool trick," he said somewhat dryly, his attention now switching back to Loki's skin.

Loki twisted his head just barely, furrowing his brows curiously. "What trick?" He kept his voice smooth and even, though he was clearly not overjoyed at speaking with the man.

"That...thing where you turn in to a disgusting blue monster. You should teach me sometime."

Loki drew his lips in to a thin line out of irritation, shifting his weight lightly. "It is not a trick," he replied lightly, his eyes moving away from Tony's in discomfort.

"Uhh-huuuh," Tony mused sarcastically, examining the God's new clothing.

Loki rolled his eyes as he tugged at the edge of the shirt a bit, not wishing to delve in to the subject of his heritage with Tony Stark. "If that is all you wish to...discuss," he said, again meeting the eyes of the other, "then I wish to continue on my way." There was a small, annoyed smile that crossed his lips that he tried halfheartedly to pass off as courtesy as he dismissed himself. He brushed quickly past Tony before he had an opportunity to say anything else.

At the end of the fairly long corridor was a commons area that Loki was actually somewhat familiar with. Though he'd only had a short visit previously, it was more than ingrained in to his mind.

Loki's eyes fell on the tile before him, noting the slightly different color. When one moved forward, there was actually a dip where his body had once lay. It was odd to look at, to say the least, and, he couldn't picture himself having once been the reason for that crater having been formed in the first place, but he fully remembered doing so. He let out a soft sigh as he turned away from the spot, picking at his hand lightly.

"Brother." He heard someone speak from behind him. Loki's face practically wadded in disgust – an almost instinctual reaction to that term. Drawing in a deep breath, Loki did his best to even his expression, turning to look at Thor. He kept silent as the blond came closer.

There were a million things going through Thor's head that very moment; a hundred swarming emotions. He wanted to know how Loki got free. Why he again stole the tesseract. Why he was once more on Earth. He wanted to scold and punish him for his actions, and apologize for his suffering. But, currently, none of those emotions seemed to swell verbally as he'd wished. He just looked at the frail figure before him in a sort of wild disbelief. That was his baby brother – regardless of how much denying Loki did – that was once more standing before him. The fallen, forgotten, and rumored dead prince of Asguard in the flesh.

"Put me down!" He screeched in pain at Thor's overbearing embrace, trying to wriggle free. Not being able to catch himself, Loki dropped to the floor at the sudden release of his body. His face scrunched with pain as he steadied himself on his knees, reaching his right hand over to grasp the opposite shoulder. He drew in a sharp breath, pulling his arm so it lay flat against his side. Loki's gaze slowly moved upward towards the blond oaf, who had taken a step backward, Thor's big, blue eyes staring back.

Thor reached out a comforting hand towards Loki. "I did not mean to -"

"Do not touch me," Loki somewhat hissed, pulling his body away from the touch of the other. Thor retracted his hand, pursing his lips contemplatively.

"I shall call Dr. Banner," he said assuredly after a moment. "He will tend to your wounds."

Loki felt his eyes widen, his eyes moving over the warped flooring. "No need to call the beast," he said, refraining from letting any fear or discomfort leak out. "I assure you I am fine." Loki rocked back a bit, pulling himself to his feet.

"We mean you no harm," Thor said with a slight chuckle as he looked to the man he called brother. There was a moment of silence between the two, and Loki finally nodded, a slight smile crossing Thor's face at his cooperation as he turned to go down the hallway.

Loki watched the God of Thunder for a moment as he moved down the hall, turning a corner. Drawing his lips in to a thin line, he moved swiftly forward. He needed a way to get out of here.

There were several doors that he tried in his attempt to escape, though they led mainly to storage facilities and other dead ends. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning the room quickly. Stairs. His eyes befell the small sign that adorned a nearby door, and he quickly turned towards his exit.

Thor clenched his fists at the emptiness of the room, glancing to those who now followed behind him. His brother was nowhere to be found.

"You left him here by himself?" Steve questioned with a fatherly tone, placing his hands on his hips as he looked to Thor.

Thor bowed his head, a vague sense of shame and disappointment washing over his features. "I thought nothing of it," he admitted.

Bruce smirked as Tony rolled his eyes. Tony sighed, shifting his weight. "You mean to tell me that you didn't think, not for _one_ second, that _THE GOD OF MISCHIEF_ would try to slip through your fingers while you had your back turned?"

Thor set his jaw in annoyance at the chiding of his teammates, shifting his weight as he looked at Tony. "I thought-"

"He'd changed? That he had good intentions?" Tony snorted in amusement as he moved towards where his Ironman armor was located, rolling up his sleeves a bit.

_**He's almost to the ground floor.**_

"Little bastard moves fast," Tony mused. "Lock all the doors on the ground floor, JARVIS."

_**Done, sir.**_

"Good," Tony praised, metallic clinks signaling that the suit was finding its place as Tony's exoskeleton. Tony's chocolate brown eyes sparkled a bit as they flitted over to the others. "Banner, with me," he instructed, taking a step forward. "Thor...Cap, you guys get to the ground floor. We're gonna drop in. See who nabs him first." He gave a wink as he and Banner headed towards the staircase, Tony intending to use the suit to quickly fly down the stairwell. Steve frowned softly as he and Thor moved to the elevator, not too fond of not being the one giving out orders.

Loki let out a heavy sigh, pausing to lean against the cool wall to breath for a moment. Running down thirty – plus flights of stairs was doing no justice to his already fatigued body. He closed his eyes briefly, brushing more of his long hair away from his face. He was so close. Biting his lip lightly, he pushed away from the wall, towards the door.

It opened wide to reveal a large front office. Large glass doors adorned the perimeter, allowing a startling amount of sunlight in, illuminating the desks lined against a center wall. Loki moved towards the door closest to him, the outside world beckoning. He reached out a hand in relief, grasping the handle. He gave it a mighty pull, only to be taken aback when the door did not budge. He frowned, again pulling. Nothing. Drawing his lips in to a thin line, he began to frantically tug at the door, hoping desperately that it would eventually give in to him, only to be greeted by the light clicking of the lock every time.

"Gotcha," a metallic voiced chimed in with tinge of amusement.

Loki frowned, releasing the door handle. His shoulders slumped as he once more reached over to brace his left arm with his right hand. The man turned slowly to face the inevitable.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes: DarkDragonne: Thanks, I really like meddling in their childhood, haha. And I'm sure Loki's not going to let that go…**

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"**I was never good enough to find**

**I was never bad enough to mind**

**In the middle I will do my best."**

Loki squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He gripped hard against the edges of the chair's armrests, almost digging his dull nails in, his wrists fighting against the restraints that held him in place. _He's doing this on purpose._ He bared his pearly white teeth slightly, clenching them against the pain.

"It's broken," Bruce sighed, pulling his hand away from Loki. The god opened his eyes, shooting a hateful glance towards the doctor, his vision blurred by the tears that had recently welled up. He kept his lips in a thin line, not allowing a sound to escape as Banner prodded around his torso.

Thor furrowed his brows, having not necessarily paid attention to the specifics of what was going on, more concerned with his brother's reaction. "What?"

Bruce looked at Thor, raising his own brow. "His clavicle," he says slowly, as if speaking to a small child, "It's broken." He reiterates with the point of his hand towards Loki's shoulder.

Thor looked to Loki, and then again to Bruce. "Did I -"

"No." Bruce chuckled a bit against the other's almost overbearing concern. Loki rolled his eyes at the blond, slumping against the chair as his muscles eased up. Bruce turned back to Loki, watching him for a moment. "Okay," he said, moving his hands towards the restraints that held the other. "Time to take a look at your back." He glanced to Tony who was standing by the door watching the trickster warily.

Loki watched with a hint of curiosity as the doctor loosened the restraints, allowing him to slip his hands free. He rubbed at his wrists, glancing at the men around him, the majority of who were between himself and the door, their stance practically daring him to try something. Loki raised his brow, standing up obediently. He turned himself around; slipping his legs carefully under the arm rests of the wooden chair he slid himself in to it neatly. The god leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the object, lacing his fingers through the pegs that connected the back to the actual seat, glancing back for a slight moment at Banner.

Thor averted his gaze from Loki's back, placing his hand lightly over his mouth as he glanced back at Steve, who stood slightly wide eyed at the sight.

Steve drew in a small breath, crossing his arms over his chest. His blond brows furrowed in curiosity as he examined the god in the chair. "What…" He paused as if searching for words. He shifted his weight. "What exactly _caused_ those particular wounds?"

Loki looked up, watching as Bruce dug through his supplies. He then glanced behind him briefly, in the general direction of Steve, wincing a bit as he again looked forward. "Did…_Thor_…not tell you?" he questioned, his tone being on the verge of vindictive amusement.

Thor bowed his head a bit further as the other three looked at him. "I thought it not important that they knew," he confessed to his brother, raising his gaze apologetically, despite the fact Loki could not see him.

Banner sighed as he looked to Loki, pulling a latex glove on his hand as to not get any dirt in to the wounds as he checked them out. The god of mischief's incredible mane was knotted neatly on the back of his head, per the request of Bruce to pull it up, away from his shoulders and back. The fact made Bruce chuckle on the inside because, despite the act his hair was so long, as well as thick, he wore it better than most women. Pulling away from his thoughts, Bruce raised a brow. "Well, now would be a good time to share," he said in vague annoyance, crouching down next to the wooden chair so that he was eye level with Loki's back.

"It is venom," Loki states simply, not wanting to wait as the oaf struggled for words. He closed his eyes, brows coming together softly in pain.

"Must've been some snake," Steve commented, placing his hands slightly on his waist.

"Serpent, actually," he corrects nonchalantly, as if commenting on nothing more than the weather. He squirmed beneath Banner's touch, hearing his brother sigh in slight annoyance. He stilled himself upon hearing Banner scold him under his breath. "That was my punishment…" There was a vindictive strain of annoyance at this last statement, no doubt aimed towards his brother.

Thor let in a sharp breath, a bit agitated. "Brother, they were going to-"

"Going to what?" he snapped viciously. Bruce jerked his hand back against a surge of sensation that he could only describe as electricity pulsing through the god. Loki's muscles tensed. "Going to relieve me of my silver tongue? Put cease to my magic?" To the others slight surprise, though Loki hardly noticed, he had nimbly –effortlessly- removed himself from the chair, now facing Odin's fair haired son, his thin lips twisted somewhere between a snarl and a sarcastic grin, the cracks and cuts surrounding the mouth only serving to make it appear more terrifyingly feral. "I am indebted to you, then, _brother_, that you had the audacity to stand before the royal court, pleading like a feeble mutt in my defense. That you, so gallantly, spared me from the needle and Muninn's blackened feather." Loki was moving forward as he spoke. The room was practically alight with the cool energy that radiated from the furious god. Loki paid to mind as a familiar tingling encompassed his body, making the hair on the back of his neck stand in excitement. "How grateful I should be to you, _brother_, who left me to rot in a desolate cavern, chained beneath Odin's mighty serpent's pried jaw, venom like corrosive acid spilling down to sear through my flesh and bone, leaving me nothing more than a deteriorated shadow of a _disgusting monster_," as he spat through gritted teeth his eyes flitted with a quick anger towards Tony, a bright swirl of red encompassing their whole before they again returned to his brother's gaze. "How kind of you, _brother_, to lock me away like some feral beast, for women and children to gawk and torment. _How thoughtful of you, brother, to spare me to torture_." He inhaled deeply as though he hadn't thought of taking a breath throughout the monologue (he hadn't). He licked lightly at the spittle that had gathered on the corners of his lips, now looking intently into his brother's failed attempt at a neutral gaze. Loki's lips flicked upwards in a vindictively satisfied smirk, watching as the blond before him struggled with a response.

Thor stood silent as his brother screeched at him. He drew his own lips in to a thin line, glancing towards the ground below, intently examining the flecks of blue incorporated in to the tile. There was a moment of silence between the two, save for the sounds of Loki's agitated breathing. Finally, Thor raised his gaze, his own bright blue eyes meeting with the narrowed green of the other's. "You escaped, did you not?" He replied softly, as if that was the plan all along.

Loki growled from deep within his being (terrifyingly unexpected, for the god was normally very composed, even in his rage) and struck Thor's face with an admirably graceful ferocity. The power behind it, admittedly, surprised even himself as he took a quiet step back, watching as the God of Thunder stumbled backwards in surprise.

The metallic clang of swords broke through the thick evening air, edges glittering a deep orange against the setting sun's glow. An exasperated, frustrated grumble passed through the young man's lips as he pushed with all of his might against the blade of the other's sword, who seemed to be effortlessly outmatching him. There was some muffled laughter from off to the side as the brothers struggled against one another, currently at a stalemate, though Loki would like it very much to not be that way. He watched with distaste as Thor glanced to the sidelined Sif, giving an arrogant wink, as though he wasn't even trying. This only infuriated the younger, and he began to push harder against the blond, despite his sword slipping the more he pushed. Thor simply raised a brow, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. Loki can tell he was trying to hold back laughter at his brother's efforts. There was a deep laugh off to the side, and Loki flicked his green eyes over, staring at the muscular Asian man that stood with the others. "His strength will never match yours, Thor," he said in amusement, his version of a plea to give the other mercy instead of humiliation. Thor's smile widened as he pressed down, giving a quick swipe to the left, effortlessly knocking his brother's sword away, Loki falling to the ground as a result to the intense pressure being relieved with such immediacy. He dug his hands in to the dirt, scowling as he tried to catch his breath and once more regain composure.

_Hogun was wrong._

Thor wiped at the crimson streak that now beaded down his face, frowning deeply as he approached his brother. He was angry, and this fact seemed to please the trickster. Thor reached out a mighty hand, gripping tightly on the shoulder that Bruce had deemed broken, hoping to incite some sort of reaction from his brother.

Laughter, however, was not what he expected.

Against the pressure; against the pulsing pain; against the crunching, grinding feeling that was emitted when Thor grabbed him, digging his fingers in to the flesh, Loki let out a laugh. Though, at first obviously startled, this seemed to only anger the blond more, as he now placed a threatening grip on Mjolnir, leaning towards his brother with gritted teeth. "Brother, I –"

"You will what?" More laughter, though somewhat hitched now. "What more can you do?" The answer came as somewhat more of an invitation than a jest, the fact of which made Thor release his grip, stepping away from his brother with a crease in his brow. He drew his lips in to a thin line, watching his brother cautiously.

"Doctor Banner," Loki announced, turning around. He ran his tongue against his top row of startlingly white teeth in contemplation. "I appreciate your…concern for my injuries, but I will be able to heal myself." He brushed some of the now loose strands of hair away from his face, gaining his collected stillness once more. "Please show me to where it is I shall be contained," His voice was once more resembled ice coated velvet as he turned to cast a look at Tony, "I assume you'll keep me contained in light of the tesseract." There was an irritating calm to his voice that was somewhat sinister, given the sudden mood swings. Tony just curled his brow, nodding a bit, sweeping a hand in front of his body as if to allow his guest the courtesy of leaving the room first.

There was an awkward silence as the two moved down the hallway. Loki moved quietly, swiftly, hands tucked behind his back. Not even his boots made a sound against the floor. Tony, on the other hand, was a bit loud as he moved down the hallway. Despite Loki not knowing where he was going, he strides still kept him a few paces ahead of his host, causing Tony to have to take much larger, faster steps to keep up with him. Tony drew his lips in to a thin line of contemplation, his chocolate irises flicking towards the taller being that moved beside him. The gears in his head were turning as he studied the angular features. He didn't figure the god was here to simply bitchslap his brother. He had intended to find out while Bruce was examining him, but, clearly, that didn't go as planned.

"Why are you here? On Earth, I mean. Why did you show up here?" The words bubbled out of Tony, his unsorted rambling breaking the thick silence.

Loki smirked a bit, remembering the last time he had encountered Tony Stark. He had thrown him out of a window. "Didn't you miss me?"

**/this sounds terribly like it's leading to FrostIron. It's not. Sorry.**


	9. Chapter 9

Notes: I LOVE JACK ATLAS: Thanks(:

ratchetsfangirl: I really, really, really (etc…) appreciate to hear that. Like. A lot. So, thank you for taking the time out of your day to sit and read my entire story in one sitting (I'm sure made slightly easier by the short chapters). Thank you(:

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"**White knuckles and sweaty palms from holding on too tight."**

There was a faint rumble of thunder in the far off distance – a sound that, whether he wanted it to or not, always brought thoughts of his brother about his subconscious. He waved them off in annoyance, much like swatting at a cloud of gnats, taking a step forward as his eyes scanned cautiously over the surrounding area. It was a small space containing only a bed and a dresser that sat along the opposite wall of the former piece of furniture. The latter was more like a coffee table with drawers in it than it was a proper dresser. Tony had insisted that it wasn't a cell, and that it was merely just one of the guest rooms in Stark Tower. As he ran his long fingers carefully against the ornate filigree relief on the corner of said dresser, he imagined that Tony Stark didn't have many guests. His eyes trailed away from the furniture as his hand once more found its place, limp by his side. He found his gazed fixed on the rather large window that sat across the room from the dresser, giving the appearance that it was resting at the foot of the bed. The sky was dark in the distance, a sign of impending storm earlier signaled by thunder, the clouds accenting the horizon with staccatos of purples and deep reds the only indicator that the sun was setting. Drawing his lips in to a thin line, Loki slid himself up on to the dresser, pulling his legs up and folding them cross-legged in front of him. He placed his hands on his knees lightly, and drew in a deep breath, his posture relaxing as much as the wall would allow as he leaned his head back, fatigue pulling at his eyelids.

A familiar stench graced his nostrils, causing him to scrunch up his nose in disgust. It smelled like a wake mixed harshly with the pooling blood of the end of battle; of death and destruction and sickening, senseless vengeance; of dread and hate and fear; of rotting flesh and dead animals and embalming fluid. It was the definition of repulsive, Loki decided, biting back the bile that nipped at the base of his throat. He cast his eyes downward, his lip curled a bit as he eyed the rotting carcasses, taking careful steps as to not touch any of them, lest maggots crawl on him and dirty his boots. Or, at least, that's what he told himself of why he was treading so carefully. It's not that he was terrified of the being that had done this. Not that the thought of becoming one of those discarded and uncared for carcasses that littered the ground shook him to his core. Never that, because what reason did Loki have to fear anyway? He swallowed hard, pushing his thoughts away with vigor as he picked lightly at his hands; they itched beneath the wrappings.

Loki froze, his body as rigid as a block of ice (he would smirk at the comparison if not for the present situation) upon hearing movement behind him. Swallowing hard, he evened his breath out as he worked at muting his expression. His eyebrows leveled, conveying a pseudo-confidence as he turned, making sure to almost over exaggerate the steps in order to keep himself quiet as he did so. He drew in a sharp breath merely out of reaction to the brooding figure who pillaged before him. His lips parted slightly as his eyes scanned over the behemoth's body, watching as it discarded various bodies like pieces of paper in the wind, his heart trying desperately to remove itself via his throat.

"Thanos," he heard himself breathe before he had the sense of mind to stop it. He wanted desperately to just clutch the words and stuff them back in to his mouth. Whatever had managed to keep him shielded from those around him suddenly vanished. He could _physically_ feel it leave, as if a chain snapped in his mind, dropping a sudden anchor, causing him to furrow his brows a bit against the sudden feel of exposure. A deep, nerve rattling bout of hysterical laughter caused Loki to jump slightly, his eyes scanning quickly for an escape route. Of course, it was in vain, and Loki was well aware of this fact.

Thanos turned to face Loki, his horrid laughter clinging to his tongue. Loki swallowed hard, watching the creature before him, thought he tried hard to keep his face a blank canvas. That too, was in vain, he supposed, as his eyes seemed to betray him.

"Silvertongue," he breathed angrily, meeting Loki's eyes. Thanos' size actually surprised the former. Loki wasn't a short individual, but the Mad Titan still managed to tower over him. Loki raised his brows as if to acknowledge the greeting. "You have returned." The lover of death twisted his mouth, baring his teeth with what Loki assumed was supposed to have been some sort of smile. Loki returned the gesture.

"I assure you it was not intended," he replied dryly, taking a step back as the other advanced. This, much like everything he'd done in the last minute or so, had been in vain, he found, as the other reached forward with a pallid hand and removed him from the ground, using his throat much like a wine glass stem with half as much grace.

Loki brought his hands up to the other's, clawing at them and trying desperately to slip his fingers between his neck and the large fingers that were wrapped around it, struggling as he tried to take deep breaths. He kicked his feet just barely at the realization that they were no longer touching the ground, a surge of panic clawing at his very being, causing his chest to tighten and his heart begin to race. This only caused Thanos to push out a smug laugh. Loki wouldn't doubt for a second he was enjoying this. He tried to swallow, but found it difficult against the crushing grip, and began to breathe short, ragged breaths through his nose as he gritted his teeth. His chest was uncomfortably tight, his lungs deprived of air and fear coursing through his veins. He drew in another short breath, an unfamiliar wetness beginning to tickle at his cheeks. This surprised Loki, and it was only as his vision blurred that he realized that they were tears. Tears of pain; of fear; tears that represented his last, pitiful, desperate plea for his life against the monster crushing his trachea; tears that disgusted the god. He sneered a bit against them, still struggling against the larger individual. Gripping tight against the hand around his throat, he brought his legs up, kicking with as much force as he could muster to try and push off of the Mad Titan, hoping the surprise would cause him to loosen his grip and not, in turn, snap his neck.

Tony slammed his hands flat against his bar in frustration, watching as the opaque brown liquid trembled slightly at the vibration. He took in a deep breath, licking the tingling burn of the Scotch away from his lips. His meeting with Loki didn't go as expected. He was hoping he could perhaps coax some answers out of the God of Mischief. Things like…well, why he was here, why he had the tesseract. You know, the important, burning questions. But, to no avail, as it really just ended in a battle of wits as clever comebacks, thus leaving Tony flustered as he stomped away to his bar to sulk in solitude. At least _that_ plan had worked out to his advantage. He rolled his lips a bit, and then picked up the glass, downing the remaining contents in one swift gulp. He sunk down to his elbows, curling his hands around his chin as he looked forward.

Apparently, immersed in the cool silence of his bar, Tony had started to drift off. He knew this only because he was startled awake, his face planted firmly on the counter, as Thor burst in. Wiping away the drool that had pooled at the corner of his mouth, he furrowed his brows at the flustered Thor before him, attempting to adjust his eyesight as his brain slowly woke up. "Whuuu…" he began, examining the god's expression.

"My brother," Thor says slowly, much to Tony's dismay. "You must take me to him, quickly." The blond was now tugging at Tony's arm, leading him quickly around the bar towards the door. Tony was fairly confused at this point.

"Loki?" he reiterated, finding stride with Thor. "Why?"

Loki lurched forward, landing with a sharp cry of pain, his shoulder colliding sharply with the floor below. He rolled over a bit, the soft carpet nipping at his cheeks, comforting in the fact that he was laying in the floor of Stark Tower, and not dead. As comforting as that could be really. He let out a heavy, shaky sigh, opening his eyes to look around – they still burned from the tears as they slowly faded back in to a pale green. His frowned deepened.

He could hear the door swing open with a heavy force, making a crashing sound as it hit against the wall. He didn't move. He didn't roll over. He didn't look at them.

Thor sucked in a deep breath, furrowing his brows at his brother. He lay in the floor before the two of them – himself and Tony. He lay on his side, somewhat crumpled at the edge of the dresser, his back facing the two of them. Tony thinned his lips. He had to admit, even when he was a lump on the ground he managed to be graceful about it. Shifting his weight, he glanced to Thor, and then back to the lump in across the room.

"What?" Loki hissed hoarsely, as loud as he could muster, though it hurt against his throat.

"You called for help," Thor said in a reminding tone. He watched as the figure before them shifted a bit.

Loki's frown deepened – even he was surprised it was possible. "I did no such thing," he again choked out. He pushed his body up, back still towards the two men in the door. He held is arm out at an angle, palm flat against the floor as if to support him. He winced against the pain in his shoulder, but, it wasn't nearly as bad as it was before. He was healing, at least. Not that it would matter if Thanos once again got hold of him. He drew his lips in to a thin line, awaiting a response.

"You did," Thor insisted, his tone rising a bit in pitch – a clear sign of his frustration. Though he could not see it, Loki smirked at the sound. "I could hear you from down the hall." Thor's heart was still beating a tad bit quickly in fright. As angry as he could be at his brother – which, to anyone's surprise, could be quite a bit – he would always be concerned for his safety. And the fact that he could hear his cries for help alarmed him, regardless of whether or not Loki would admit he was doing such.

Loki furrowed his brows at his brother. He didn't remember calling out for help. He couldn't remember saying a whole lot of anything, especially considering his airway was being constricted by a death obsessed Titan. He drew his lips in to a thin line, contemplating. "I did no such thing," he insisted again, this time panged with a sense of curious confusion and annoyance. Brows coming together lightly in pain, the God pushed himself up off of the floor, standing now with his back to them. He swayed a bit as he stood, reaching out to steady himself on the nearby dresser. Drawing in (much to his delight) a deep breath, he turned slowly to face them, prepared to demand them to explain their nonsense.

Tony furrowed his brow at Loki as he turned, watching carefully as he swayed ever so slightly on his feet. The god turned, and Tony was surprised that his jaw didn't drop. His eyes moved immediately to the other's neck, his brows practically meeting his hairline. There was a small trail of crimson that traced the side of the god's neck, but that wasn't what startled him most. Against the porcelain skin of the aforementioned, large bruises, a deep purple-black in contrast to the color of his flesh, welted up around his neck, the pattern in the shape of a large hand clear as day. He scanned slowly from Loki's neck to his face, looking for some sort of reaction. His face fell with soft concern, examining the light streaks from now dried tears that adorned his cheeks, his eyes still slightly red around the brim. He'd cried. He was met almost instantly with an icy glare from Loki, his eyes shifting to Thor as Tony cast his own gaze down, as if caught doing something he shouldn't have. Tony rolled his lips a bit, and then glanced to Thor to see if he had noticed.

Watching Tony and Thor's faces, Loki self-consciously brought his hand to his neck, wrapping his slender fingers around it as if to hide it. It was almost raw to the touch, but he kept his face a blank canvas, only raising his brow curtly as he waited for one of them to say something to him.

Thor frowned at his brother, watching him for a moment. "Brother…" he said, flopping his hands at his sides as though he were at a loss for words. "What happened?"

Tony raised a brow, looking from Thor to Loki, nodding a bit. In a swift motion (he was fairly proud of himself) he kicked the door shut behind him, listening as the lock made a light click to signify that they only way they were getting out of the room was either with an override from Tony Stark, or the window to their left. He looked at Loki pointedly, crossing his arms about his chest just beneath the Arc reactor. "Yeah," he said in agreement, "do explain."

Loki frowned at first, watching as Tony closed the door, effectively trapping the three of them in here. His eyes darted around as he searched for effective escape routes, which, really, was only the window. He supposed he could probably just _teleport_ out, but he wasn't sure he was rested enough for that. Using that kind of focus on your magic could definitely make one worse for the wear, especially if that someone is currently riddled with various injuries that aren't quite healed yet.

His eyes moved to Thor in contemplation. In all honesty, he was surprised that the oaf hadn't run home to tell Odin about this whole incident yet. And, with that thought, it all hit him like a freight train. His lips twisted in to a smirk as he looked between the two.

The reason Thor hadn't been in Asgard as of late is because he was here. On Earth. This is where he'd been since the last time that Loki had been reprimanded. Because, he felt the overwhelming need to protect the people here. With Stark; with Banner; with Rogers and Romanoff and Barton. The Avengers. He was standing in a room in the _Avengers_ Tower. Earths mightiest heroes and all that. He wasn't sure why he hadn't realized this before, but now that he had, it was very much to his advantage.

Loki tilted his head to the side just slightly, leaning more in to the dresser. "Where would you like me to begin?" he questioned.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes: ****I LOVE JACK ATLAS****: aww. Thanks(:**

**Guest****: I do what I can, haha. And yes, Thanos just makes everything difficult.**

**I'm sorry that this chapter took _way_ too long to get up.**

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"**You don't want to hurt me, but see how deep the bullet lies."**

The trickster moved slowly, his boots making not a sound, as though he weren't actually touching the floor. Sometime during the night – or perhaps, in the wee hours of the morning – he had finally shed his heavier armor for the more comfortable undershirt – a tan colored tunic accented with threading of a deep forest green and glittering gold (the latter could only be seen when the light appropriately hit it) around the edges that hung somewhat loosely off of his torso, unlaced about the neck to reveal his pale collar bone. His hair, though normally cleanly smoothed back and away from his face, lay in a bit of a mess, curling more than usual as it delicately framed his cheekbones and neck. Artistically brushed beneath his eyes were two light purple streaks, an outstanding symbol of his lack of sleep, serving to make his green eyes almost fluorescent.

His eyes trailed to the nearest opening in the wall, looking at the dark clouds that still drifted along the early morning sky, the deep orange rays from the oncoming sunrise just barely hinting at the skyline. He progressed forward, arms dangling limply at his side, his posture slightly less erect than the expected norm for the regal ex-prince of Asgard, and he was momentarily glad that nobody was around to catch a glimpse of the seemingly deteriorating being. His eyes darted around the room for a moment, catching a small clock on a nearby end table, bright red light illuminating the darkened room eerily, displaying a six, a three and a two. This, of course, made no difference to Loki, and he paid little attention to it as he moved forward.

Pressing his hand flat against the glass, he pushed the door open noiselessly, stepping out on to the balcony. The wind outside was very chilly, though it did not insight a shiver from the god of mischief. Instead, his skin prickled blue, a reaction that Loki fought hard to repress at the instant it happened, wrapping his arms about his waist. Drawing his lips in to a thin line, the god moved forward, towards the edge of the tower's balcony. He frowned a bit, peering over the edge. He reached his hands out for a moment, considering placing them against the railing, but retracted them instantly against the glistening dew that covered the metal. Bringing his hand slowly up to his neck, he ran his fingers over the welts that had formed with a shaking sigh; closing his eyes a bit against the silence that surrounded him, save for the few birds chirping as background noise.

Hearing footsteps from behind him, Loki immediately righted himself, his hands once more at his sides, his face falling flat with an apathetic distaste. Turning on his heel, he curled his brow at the man who stood behind him, catching the wide blue eyes of the man out of time. His lips parted in to somewhat of a grin, though it didn't meet his eyes by a mile. "Captain," he greeted coolly, his voice still somewhat hoarse.

"Why are you still here?" he deadpanned. The distaste billowed off of his tongue, and he didn't even try to stop it. Sure, he'd been there when they'd decided not to call Fury. He couldn't say he entirely disagreed with that. He didn't trust the SHIELD director as far as the Hulk could throw him. But, he had figured that after Loki's little hissy fit last night that he'd for sure be going back to Asgard. After all, the last thing they needed was a brooding brat on their hands.

Loki couldn't help the eye roll that answered that question. Lifting his chin a bit, he wrapped his arms behind his back, clutching one wrist with the opposite hand as his emerald eyes narrowed down the bridge of his nose. "Not even a good morning? And here, I'd thought you were the couth one." He feigned disappointment, his bottom lip protruding just slightly in a pout.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, Loki."

"Nor I for yours, _Captain_." The name slid through his teeth with distaste, the corner of his lip twitching slightly – the only emotion the god allowed to play on his face.

The trickster's thin lips twisted in to a fairly emotionless smirk, aside from the slight gleam that accented his eyes just briefly, scanning the jaw of Steve Rogers as it flexed – a clear sign of his irritation, no doubt amplified by the early morning. This was almost too easy, poor fellow.

"I merely…_persuaded_ your colleagues." This time his lips parted in smile, revealing his pearly white teeth, seemingly too many for his mouth. Technically, that is exactly what he'd done. What he had most definitely _not_ done was twist the situation to his advantage. He had most certainly _not_ implied that Thanos had plans to invade Midgard, instead of admitting he was actually after him. But it was too delicious an opportunity to fill in the overwhelmingly foggy details for the blond that stood before him.

"You did…WHAT?!" It was clear that this stuck a nerve with the Captain. As it should've, he supposed, given prior events involving Loki and the Captain's beloved Avengers.

Glancing down momentarily, Loki once more found the other's face, watching him through his dark lashes. His lips barely part, emitting a low sort of chuckle, allowing it to roll from his throat like sinister velvet as the star-spangled man lunged against the noise.

Loki's laughter was cut short as his shoulders slammed against the pavement below, causing him to grunt a bit against Steve Rogers' brute force. He parted his lips once more, though Steve was unsure of whether or not he was simply bearing his teeth, or smiling, which, quite frankly, creeped him out. He tightened his grip on the god's shoulders, pulling up slightly to slam them once more in to the concrete. "What did you do to them?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Instead of a reply, Loki brought his knees to his chest, the flat of his boots finding leverage against the others, and he pushed his legs forward with as much force as he could, flinging the patriotic pain in the ass away from him almost effortlessly. He gingerly pulled himself in to a standing position, watching as the Avenger before him caught his breath momentarily. Loki smirked. "You read too much in to things, dear Captain."

Once more the agitated super soldier lunged at him, only to have his arm caught by a startlingly cold grip. Loki sneered, following the Captain's trail of vision to the deep cobalt colored fingers that were wrapped tightly against his sun tanned skin. Loki squeezed harder, watching as the man squirmed at the impending frostbite. As he squeezed his arm, he pressed his weight against him, taking the Captain down to his knees. Though he'd initially riled the man, he'd –quite literally – quickly grown tired of his antics. They could go at this for hours and the Captain would accomplish nothing. He wasn't much fun to provoke, admittedly, even in his early morning stupor. "There is a war coming, Captain Rogers," he said lazily, finally releasing the others arm.

Steve recoiled, pulling his burning arm close to his body as he clenched his teeth. He furrowed his brows against the pain, looking up to the pale god before him. "War?" he questioned, disbelief washing over his tone.

Loki sighed. "Is there an echo?" He once more wrapped his arms around his back, setting his jaw lightly. "Yes, Rogers, a war."

"Wh…what? Why…wh-"

"Use your words, Rogers. I know you are capable."

"What do you mean a war?" he questioned after a moment, his voice still low with disbelief.

"Exactly what it sounds like, Captain. A _war_; a state of armed conflict between different nations or different groups within a nation. In this particular case, worlds – personified through the leader of the Chitauri."

The noble Captain America shook his head. "No…we…Tony…_eradicated the problem_." He could remember. The missile. Tony had flown it through the portal created by the tesseract – he'd almost died to send that missile to the Chitauri. He was almost certain that there was enough power behind it to have wiped out the Chitarian army on the other side.

Loki, however, let out an airy laugh. "Eradicated? No. Quite the opposite indeed. Angered, is more like it. Angered their…_master_."He swallowed hard at the thought, the ghosts of those thick, pallid fingers winding their way against his throat.

Liar. King of Lies. _God_ of Lies, Steve recalled. He shook his head. "No. You're lying."

Loki snarled. "What need do I have to lie to you? I am merely here to promote your cause – the well being of this _realm_. I know more of Tha—" he cut the name short, lest he garner unwanted attention, his throat once more constricting. "I know more of their master than you could fathom, Rogers, and I could prove a worthy ally."

"Why would you help us?" Steve asked after a brief moment. "The last time you were here you tried to enslave us. Why should I believe you've turned a new leaf?"

"_Because I have learned my lesson!" _he spat at the man crouched before him – nearly kneeling, he added subconsciously, deriving, albeit it terribly small, amusement in that moment. "Because I know what this being is capable of! I have seen it with my own eyes, and even in my darkest moment; at my lowest point; in all the anger and hate I might yield; _in the innermost recesses of what shriveled up heart I may have left_ – I wish this fate on _no one_!" He drew in a sharp breath, just watching the pseudo-Aryan man before him for a moment, collecting his thoughts as his slipped once more behind his mask. His now dulled green eyes lingered for just a moment longer before his hastily turned his body, heading back in to the confines of the tower.

Steve just watched him for a moment, eyes still wide in surprise at his outburst; still wide against that burning feeling that nipped painfully at his arm. He rubbed against the wound absentmindedly, steadying himself in to a standing position.

With a sigh, Loki eased in to the couch. He swung on leg up on to the cushions, stretching it out before him, the other foot still resting on the floor, his leg bent at the knee as he sank in to the corner of the piece of furniture. There was a moment of silence, greeted by a light purr, causing Loki to look around momentarily off put, brow barely furrowed as he met the bright green eyes of a small cat. He smirked at it, welcoming it as it found its way on to the couch, curling against his chest. He leaned his head back, bringing one hand up to gently lay across his eyes, closing them as he found himself comfortable.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he was violently jerked awake, a harsh clap of thunder shaking the sturdy building to its foundation, cat's claws sinking in to his thigh. He drew in a sharp breath, heart beating rapidly as static tension rose in the air, causing the hair along the back of his neck to stand alert. There was another crack of thunder, and then a blinding bolt of lightning, causing Loki to squint his eyes a bit, raising his hand just barely in front of his eyes. There was a harsh thud, and the lightning cleared to reveal Thor in the indention on the floor. "BROTHER!" he called furiously, grip tight against Mjolnir as he shouted, moving quickly towards the couch.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes: I LOVE JACK ATLAS: I'm glad I didn't disappoint! **

**Serpent Prince: You flatter me(: Thanks for reading. **

**ratchetsfangirl: ah, well, I hope I didn't disappoint with the Thor curiosity here, and I'm privy to Cap and Loki confrontations as well(;**

**So. This chapter wasn't exactly what I had planned on it being, but I mulled over it for a very long time until this came out. It turned out to really be somewhat of the world's longest interlude between chapters to allow me to gather thoughts on the continuation of the actual plot line. With school having started and all of that fun stuff, it gets hard for me to sit and write out chapters and thoroughly think over plotlines and the likes. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint anybody(;**

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"**Is this what you call a family?"**

The room crackled with a heated energy still resonating from the elder god's hammer.

Loki managed to keep his face painted with delicate colors of apathy despite the rapid increase in heart rate. Despite how he presses himself harshly in to the back of the couch as if that would add distance between the two. Despite the sudden anxious pain that washes over his joints, muscles twitching against the instinct to flee. He wraps slender fingers protectively around the kitten's midsection, feeling as the feline digs its claws in to his thigh. He pulls it closer to his torso as it emits a low hiss towards the fairer. For a fleeting moment, he smiles inwardly at the small animal's preference.

Thor continues forward, his face contorted in some sort of vile mixture of pain and rage. The trickster fights the urge to flinch against it, pulling his lips thin against his pale face. Instead, he lifts one dark eyebrow towards his not-brother in response to his shouting.

"A talented liar, indeed!" Thor practically spits at him, posture tense and shoulders squared as he moved closer to the couch.

The edge of Loki's lip lifted just barely, breaking his façade of apathy to allow a bit of disgust to seep through, reminders of Asgard sliding through his mind like a flip book or a stop motion film – jagged and disorienting and oh-so-slow. Of the Odinsleep. Of Frigga's misplaced belief and heart shattering realization. Of his patricide and attempted genocide. "So I've been told."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Thor's voice cracked just lightly against his boiling anger. His hand gripped tightly against Mjolnir, knuckles white from the force as he stared down the younger.

Loki tilted his head to the side slightly in mock consideration, curling his brow as if to reply a curt _yes_. His self preservation, on the other hand, instructed him to keep his mouth closed.

His lack of response clearly only served as a barb to the thunderer. "You come to Midgard to feign repentance and earn the trust of me – of _us_ – by spinning well constructed lies with your silver tongue! And to think, brother, I thought you changed. All the while an elaborate ruse to keep Asgard's heir from realizing the Mad Titan wreaks havoc upon his land!"

Through years of schooling his emotions in to complacency, of being able to hide his inner turmoil even to himself, the words shouldn't have struck such a sharp chord as they hit his ears. Asgard – the only place he'd dared call home. Where he was raised, and where, later, his overwhelming need to prove that he was not more a stranger than Thor, led him to attempt to exterminate an entire race for this place to which he was so deeply rooted.

He tried to open his mouth, to speak protest to the god before him, but found his tongue once more stilled by the curb-plate of his bridle. His bright eyes widened, bringing pale hands to his face, slender fingers curling around and clawing at the muzzle in an attempt to remove it from his form. An unquenchable and sudden fear rose up through his being, his hands involuntarily shaking as his desperation heightened. He could feel his body shrinking in around him, as if once more becoming a small child beneath the lumbering thunderer. He looked up through dark lashes, watching the god that towered largely above him, his shadow looming overhead, casting dark, menacing, angular patterns along the otherwise bland walls. He could feel his breath catch in his throat, chest rising and falling rapidly as he scrambled backward in an attempt to find his not-brother's gaze; the room now seemed overly small, shrinking around them as the red and blue clad being's body curled up, serpent-like, around the ceiling to accommodate itself to the ever shrinking space, dirty blond hair hanging around his darkly shaded face in strings. There was a sharp howl of malicious laughter as Loki found himself stumbling backwards, landing not-so-gently on his back, brows furrowing a bit in discomfort. Starting faintly, then becoming steadily louder, Loki could identify the sound of clinking chains, the metal heavy against the stone floor. He slid himself away from his not-brother's distorted figure, rolling on to his side like some kind of animal. He tried desperately to slide away, to turn himself over, to remove himself, but to no avail, feeling the pinching metal close definitively over his wrists and ankles, pulling him at an angle until he was no longer on his side in an attempt to get off of his feet, but was instead splayed against the floor, arms and legs stretched out to his sides, cuffs chained fast against his limbs, bridle tightening against his face.

He writhed against the floor, twisting his wrists and pulling as hard as he could against the chains, feeling as the warm blood once more graced his pale flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to scream against the curb-plate of the bridle, only to find familiar barbs pressing against his tongue. He could feel the hot tears as the welled up in the corners of his eyes, and tried hard to hold them in, to blink them away, and to stay focused on the serpentine figure before him. He drew a shuddering breath through his nose, emerald eyes scanning the room for his not-brother's face. He was greeted once more with the sharp edge of that maniacal laughter that so closely attempted to resemble Thor's. There was more, though. A symphony of laughter, followed by heavy footsteps, grew ever closer to Loki's stationary form. The footsteps subsided, and the younger opened they eyes he didn't realize he had so steadfastly held shut. He was greeted with four plus his brother – Sif, Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg- their figures equally as distorted as his brothers as they glared down with him, malicious mirth evident in their gleaming eyes.

"Look at him."

"Writhing in pain. Giving up so easily."

"Trying to run away from his problems."

"Typical."

"I knew he could've never actually been my brother."

"Never be your equal."

"Not good enough."

"Too weak."

"Such a disgrace."

"Why did the All-Father pick you?"

"The runt of the litter."

"Not even your own father wanted you."

"Left you there to die."

"You should've died."

Loki looked around frantically; he looked around with a sorrowful anger, grinding his teeth as best he could. He tried to scream, the barbs of the curb-plate piercing in to his tongue. He cared not, the blood a welcome, coppery tang as it swirled in his mouth. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles bit in to flesh as his muscles tensed and his body arched in to the rage.

"Have we struck a nerve?"

More laughter from them. More screaming from Loki.

"Look at the weakling struggle."

He thrashed in an attempt to lash out at them, his slender fingers balling in to tight fists, nails digging in to palms. His anger-fueled shouting was growing in volume, now a dull roar behind the branks around his mouth. He attempted to throw himself at their continued taunts, his body momentarily leaving the ground, only to be restricted by the chains that pulled tighter, his body slamming in to the linoleum below once more.

"Disgusting."

"Unwanted."

"Unworthy."

"Bastard."

"A silvertongue and a lie-smith. A thief and a murderer. And outsider. You should've died in the icy halls of Jotunheim like you were meant to. The All-Father was a weak fool to take pity on such as you; you who are unworthy to walk in the same halls – nay, breathe the same breath – as the Aesir. You who are a vile waste of life, and you who were unwanted by even the lowest of monsters ––"

Loki allowed his screaming to die down as each word was driven in to the pulsing grey matter in his scull. He allowed his body to still, his senses to dull as each insult struck a chord His brows quirked just lightly, a combined feeling of sorrow and acceptance tapping at the nerve-endings in his body, allowing a numbness to take hold of his limbs as his not-brother spoke the unspoken truth that had lingered in the air for so long.

"— I will not be so weak as my predecessor."

Loki met his gaze, watching the piercing blue eyes for just a moment, his own green dulled over lazily as he watched Thor's hand tighten against his mighty hammer, drawing it from its hilt. He could feel his heart racing once more, but fought against the urge to scream, an unknown presence seeming to hold his shoulders with a soothing strength. His eyes followed to Thor's face as the hammer was brought above the blond's head, the stance lingering longer. Thor's lips broke in to a sinister smile, ever growing as his lips seemed to gruesomely split, the corners of the smile reaching to his ears, the flesh splitting open with a rotten, repulsive ripping noise to reveal rows and rows of crimson-stained, glittering teeth, much akin to a shark. Loki could feel his own eyes widen, and, against better judgment, he felt his bones rattle with another scream – a protest – as his not-brother brought the hammer down with a terrifying force upon his head.

Screaming. Tony could hear screaming of an unfamiliar variety. As an afterthought, he found it kind of sad that he had a variety of screaming he was used to. He sat up in his bed, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand; rubbing with a determined ferocity as he swung his legs over the side of his bed. The floor was cold against his bare feet, but he fought against his instinct to recoil, instead, he stood up and allowed his full weight to hold his feet against the cool tile. He shuffled forward, digging around until he found a pair of sweatpants to pull over his bar legs, not bothering with a shirt. Running a hand through his sloppy mane, he glanced towards the ceiling with his morning-hazed brown eyes, yawning, "Talk to me Jarvis."

_The living room. There seems to be problems with Mr. Laufeyson, sir._

Tony just stared at him for a moment. Problems. Mr. Laufeyson. Screaming. He felt a frown tugging at his lips. "What the fuck…" he growled angrily, thrusting himself through the threshold of his room and in to the hallway. He moved determinedly, each step heavy as he hurriedly made his way towards the living room. The god had been here, what, a day? Two days, tops, and he was already doing what he did best. Tony would not hesitate to sic Bruce on him, not one bit.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe it was Loki throwing furniture. Or perhaps he was expecting him to be stabbing Bruce, or throwing Steve from a window. Maybe he was even expecting Loki and Thor to be going at eachother on the balcony. But he can assure you that whatever it was that he was expecting he did not find.

What he did find was Loki and Steve, albeit a far cry from anyone being thrown from a window. Loki lay on the floor while Steve tried hard to hold him down, though he was doing somewhat of a botched job, the god throwing him heavily off balance every so often as he writhed next to the couch. Tony furrowed his brows, and began to move forward, catching Steve looking back at him with somewhat of a panic written on his features. Tony curled his brow, kneeling down next to Loki and taking hold of his left arm, pressing against the shoulder firmly to try and keep it to the ground. The combined efforts of the two seemed to do a better job at keeping him subdued, though his body still convulsed and rippled beneath them, staccatoed with screams. Tony placed his free hand against Loki's wrist, holding his arm out and away from his body, and leaning most of his own body weight against the god's side and upper arm via his knees.

"Do gods have seizures?" Tony questioned through gritted teeth as he adjusted the grip he had on the quaking being beneath him.

"I…I don't know." Steve drew in a deep breath and once more look at Tony, his brows knitting together in concern. "I'm not exactly an expert on god-like behavior."

Tony nodded, glancing back down at Loki, and then again to Steve, "And where is our resident specialist?"

"Thor? I couldn't find Thor. I looked, but I didn't want to leave him alone in case…" he glanced back down, another shout ripping from the god's lips. "In case anything happened."

Again, Tony agreed on that point. The wrath of Thor is not something he was looking forward to experiencing on this side of forever. "Right. And Banner?"

"I asked Jarvis to ask for him. He hasn't shown yet." Steve looked around, blond hair disheveling just slightly. "Obviously." He added at the end, for emphasis.

There was stillness for a moment, Steve watching Tony while Tony watched Loki, the tremors seeming to have subsided. Even after Loki seemed calm for a moment the two sat with their weight atop him, unsure of what to do now. Tony knew what he wanted to do; he knew what he needed to do. He needed to find Thor and get a medical history of their mischievous house guest here. He needed to find out if this was something that has happened before, or if this was perhaps some side-effect of some sort that the Avengers would find themselves headfirst in the ramifications of, because, really, they _always _find themselves with the short end of the stick with this guy.

After a moment, sure that they seizure – or whatever had just happened – was over, Tony once more rested his gaze in to Steve's. "Go find Banner," he finally sighed, glancing from Steve's blue eyes to the door behind him. He rolled his lips a bit, and then looked down once more to the god below him. He was sure there was something that Banner could do with this, be it providing something as simple as ibuprofen, or give some long winded expression about impending brain damage. Perhaps, somewhere, subconsciously, he wanted Bruce in the room in case Loki came up swinging, in which case the Hulk would be there for moral support.

Steve hesitated for a moment before he finally offered a nod, removing himself cautiously from where he was crouched beside the god's splayed out figure. There was another moment of hesitation in which he watched the quick rise and fall of Loki's chest, and then Tony, before he turned on his heel and headed towards the elevator that would take him to Banner's residential area.

Tony watched as the super soldier exited the room, and allowed his posture to slump a bit, glancing down at the Loki-skin rug that lay flat on his floor. He curled his brow at him, shaking his head just a bit, releasing his grip on his wrist in time for another tremor to writhe its way over the god, a muffled cry escaping his lips in the form of "No!" There was a sharp intake of breath on Loki's part, and then the god rolled on to his side, right arm wrapping around his midsection as he practically curled in on himself, head nudging hard against Tony's knees. If there was a single, muffled sob in to Tony's lap afterword, the man of Iron wasn't telling.


End file.
